


Voltage

by orphan_account



Category: Darker Than Black
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>November 11 steps back, clenching his fist, wincing.  “Quite a clever thing, this.  Just a little current, but it makes the electricity in your body react—a bit like shocking a heart back into rhythm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voltage

If Hei’s completely honest with himself—and he tries to be, as a rule—it’s all really his own fault. He gets sloppy when he hasn’t eaten or hasn’t slept, or some combination thereof. So when he feels the ice creep up his body, followed by the blow to the head that scrambles his brains so badly he doesn’t even have time to reach for his powers, he really isn’t be surprised.

He loses consciousness to the sound of heels clicking on asphalt.

\----

He wakes up one pounding headache later, arms outstretched, tied up vertically in place to something cold and metal, in what seems to be a very expensive hotel room. A familiar-looking girl is sitting a dark, polished desk, chin propped up on her fist.

“I knew you’d look good naked,” she says, in heavily accented but fluent Japanese. She tips back a can of cheap, convenience store beer, before getting to her feet. “You must work out.”

“April,” Hei acknowledges. “What do you want?”

“Lots of things,” she says, moving closer, dyed hair vibrant in the mood-lighting.

Hei stares at her for a moment, before letting the electricity suffuse his body. The pain hits him immediately, racking his body, making him shake.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” April tuts, tapping him on the nose with one glossy-painted fingernail. Up close she smells like perfume and liquor. “This is made especially to channel all contractor powers back your way. Perfect for interrogations—and in the meantime,” she winks, “It makes a terrific sex-aid.”

“Now, now April,” a male voice drawls from Hei’s right. “There are children present.”  
November 11 steps into Hei’s line of sight. April smiles at him and says, “Oh, July doesn’t mind. Do you, July?”

“No.” The doll that fills out the MI6 trio doesn’t move from where he’s sitting in a straight-backed chair beside the door. “I don’t mind.”

November 11 smiles blandly. He wears mirrored sunglasses, even though outside it’s overcast, and inside it’s positively gloomy. “Now, to business. You might be wondering why you’re here.”

“Mostly,” Hei says, voice Reaper-dead. “I was wondering where my clothes went.”

“Ah yes. And I don’t blame you—quite a nice coat, no doubt custom-made. It doesn’t fit me, of course. I’m too broad over the shoulders.” He steps closer, and _he_ smells of tobacco, as Hei had known he would. “You’re a small sort of chap, aren’t you?”

Hei doesn’t respond.

November waves a hand. “Don’t worry, your clothes are a lot safer than you are at the moment. Now, our employers want to know—what have you done with the package?”

Hei tips his head to the side. “What package?”

“Now, don’t be like that. I wouldn’t want things to get unpleasant. The Syndicate sent you after something last week, and we want it. Where is it?”

“I’m tied up, naked in a room with three British perverts. I think things are already unpleasant.”

April laughs and November 11 smiles tightly. “Indeed?” He takes off his sunglasses, folding them neatly and slipping them into his shirt pocket. They aren’t really necessary—his eyes are nearly as impossible to read as two tiny panes of tinted glass.

Stepping closer, he stretches out a hand. Hei has just enough time to see something tiny and metal attached to his palm, before he presses it to his sternum. There’s the slightest jolt, before Hei feels his power react, being pulled out somewhere deep in the region of his stomach, flowing out of him. The device he’s tied to throws it back, making every nerve-ending flare with pain. Hei screams.

November 11 steps back, clenching his fist, wincing a little. “Quite a clever thing, this. Just a little current, but it makes the electricity in your body react—a bit like shocking a heart back into rhythm.”

April lounges back on the bed as Hei pants, trying to catch his breath. She cocks her head. “I don’t know,” she says. “Seems like he likes it too much.”

“Hmm? Ah…” November 11 grins wider than before, digging his hands into his pocket, gaze dropped down. “Well, yes. That can sometimes happen. The male body is an unpredictable thing, isn’t it now?”

Hei feels his jaw twitch.

“Or maybe you like this,” November goes on. He cups Hei’s cheek in a hand that smells like cigarettes. “Maybe the universe has a sense of humor after all. They do say that our powers manifest from what we already know.” He laughs. “I assumed that you were the son of an electrician or had been struck by lightning as a child, but…” He trails of with a chuckle. “But that’s beside the point. We’re not here to judge. We just need to know where the package is. Then we can all be on our merry ways.”

Hei shivers slightly as November jolts him again. He’s ready for it this time—he doesn’t shout—but it still hurts. “I don’t have it anymore. It’s gone.”

“See, now, I know that isn’t true. I’ve had someone watching you, _Li Shun Shen_. Someone is searching your flat as we speak.” He sits down on the bed and crosses his legs neatly. “You’ve got a nice set up. Neighbors who are willing to swear what a fine, upstanding gentleman you are.”

Hei says nothing.

“Still,” November 11 goes on. “I find it odd that you pretend to be Chinese, as if that would make you less noticeable. But I suppose you couldn’t have said you were French.” He laughs heartily.

“November,” April admonishes. “That’s racist.”

“Is it?” November 11 sighs. “It’s so hard to keep track these days. My apologies. I didn’t mean any disrespect.” He gets up and presses his hand to Hei’s abdomen, lower this time. He leaves it there for longer, until Hei’s body is shaking with it. The voltage isn’t high enough to be lethal, but it hurts.

“Interesting.” November’s gone back to staring at his crotch, with an intensity that’s almost enough to make Hei blush. Almost. Contractors don’t blush. “I didn’t think you’d go in for this sort of thing.” His hand drifts over Hei’s face again, through his hair, the slightest touch. “You seem so vanilla, if you know what I mean. The sort of boy I could bring home to my mother.” He smiles, at his own personal joke. “Well, of course, not to _my_ mother. For one, she’s dead, and another, she never did like me bringing boys home.”

Hei stares at him, letting his eyes go dead. “Do you always talk this much?”

“You should hear him on car trips,” April says, rolling her eyes. “Just goes on and on.”

“Hey now,” November chides fondly. “Don’t go making me look bad in front of the captives.” He turns back to Hei. “I’m prepared to do this all night, if you like.”

“He will, you know,” April adds from the bed. “Got unbelievable endurance, this one.”

Hei lets a smile twist his lips. “Bite me.”

Reflecting back on it, it was probably the wrong move.

November 11 steps up close again. “If you insist.” He lands a bite on Hei’s neck, just as he pushes his hand to his chest. The pain lances through him, electricity crackling in his ears. This time, November keeps his hand there until Hei’s shaking with it, until the pain is just one constant hum. He blacks out again, after that.

When he comes to, he’s still in the hotel room, but he’s seeing from a different angle. He’s flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and whatever he’s lying on is soft and yielding. He’s going to go with bed, most likely.

Someone’s smoothing his hair out of his eyes, wiping down his face with something soft and cool. He would have guessed April, and he isn’t really sure if that’s because she’s a girl, or because she just seems to be least frightening of the three of them, but when he turns his head it’s November 11 sitting on the edge of the bed, that same politely interested smile on his face.

“There, now. That’s better, isn’t it?”

Hei opens his mouth, not exactly sure what he’s planning to say, but he can’t get his lips to move.

“Don’t try to talk yet,” November cautions. “You’re very weak, you see.” So that accounts for why he isn’t restrained. He’s still naked, though.

November 11 brushes his fingers through his hair again, like he’s stroking a sick pet. “As it turns out, July found the package all on his own. We’re having it extracted as we speak.”

Hei doesn’t react. He seriously doubts that that’s true—Mao and Wong are much too capable to let anything like that happen.

“So in the end, I didn’t break you,” November says with a sigh. “Which is strange. The average contractor would have given up the location immediately. It is, after all, the logical course of action. But you’re not an average contractor, are you, Li?”

Hei says nothing.

“You know what I think?” November goes on. It’s gotten darker outside the hotel window, and his eyes seem to shine in the gloom. “I think that might be your payment—you’re forced to think like a human being.”

“It’s a good theory,” Hei croaks. His voice has come back, but it sounds like it’s someone else talking.

“Mmm, yes. I’ve got more, but unfortunately our meeting is just about up.” He smiles, that same flat expression that doesn’t say anything at all. “I wish I had the time, Black Reaper, to find out exactly what you are.” Something does show through then—a momentary intensity that makes his eyes blaze.

Hei fidgets a little, flexing his fingers. Feeling’s starting to come back. “I’m sure we’ll get the chance.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” November 11 stands up, reaching for a (no doubt very expensive) bottle of water and unscrewing the cap, upending it across Hei’s torso and arms. It isn’t very cold, but it’s unexpected. Hei jumps and draws in breath through his teeth.

“What--.”

There’s a familiar hum of power in the air, before November 11 glows blue, eyes set with scarlet pin-points. The water on Hei’s chest ices over, and that _is_ cold, so cold it burns.

“That should keep you immobile for at least a little while longer.” November reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He taps one out and lights up, wrinkling his nose in distaste at his payment. “Your clothes are in the closet, whenever you thaw.”

“How kind of you,” Hei grits out.

“I have my moments.” He blows out a long, elegant plume of smoke. “Until we meet again.”


End file.
